


For the Sake of Camelot

by archaicscript, swimsalot



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Druid Merlin (Merlin), M/M, Merlin is called Emrys but it's still him, Ritual Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sex with like the tiniest bit of angst at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-03 17:26:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17882090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archaicscript/pseuds/archaicscript, https://archiveofourown.org/users/swimsalot/pseuds/swimsalot
Summary: Recently coronated King of Camelot, Arthur learns of a ritual that must be performed to ensure the land itself accepts him as king. The mysterious ritual leads him to the druids and into the arms of their mysterious and beautiful king, Emrys.





	For the Sake of Camelot

“You can’t be serious Gaius.” Arthur scoffs and crosses his arms. He stares down the old man hoping he’ll break and admit this is some kind of joke. An odd, out of place bit of humor meant to test Arthur and his beliefs before he takes the crown.

 

But Gaius doesn’t break. He doesn’t laugh or shake his head. His expression remains calmly neutral as if he hadn’t just walked into Arthur’s chambers the night before his coronation to tell him that after his feast tomorrow, before the sun rises on his first true day as King of Camelot, he has to go into the forest and offer up something to the elusive and mysterious ‘Druid King’.

 

“Tell me you’re joking.” Arthur tries again, a little more desperately this time.

 

“I’m afraid not sire,” Gaius says, cool as you like. He clasps his hands behind his back and takes another few steps into the room, closer to Arthur who refuses to back away. “It is an ancient ritual, one that has been performed by every king of Camelot for as far back as can be remembered. The ritual is even mentioned in some of our oldest history books, though your father had them all locked away during the Great Purge.”

 

The mention of his recently passed father hits Arthur like a blow to the chest. He would give anything for his wisdom and guidance now. “Surely Father-“

 

“Yes, Arthur. Even Uther took part in the ceremony when he was crowned king.” Gaius cuts him off. He was never one for propriety and interrupting the king, or soon to be king, is just another rule he feels free to ignore. Besides, it’s the truth though it had been years before Uther’s reign of terror against magic and all who practiced it began.

 

The prince sighs and his arms drop. “What am I supposed to do in this ritual?”

 

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Gaius answers cheerfully. “The ritual is one of the Druids’ most carefully guarded secrets. Only the Druid King, the King of Camelot, and a few of each of their most trustworthy companions are allowed to attend and know the intricacies of the ceremony.”

 

That hardly sets Arthur’s mind at ease. A mysterious ritual in the forest with a powerful and dangerous sorcerer. What could possibly go wrong?

 

He waves for Gaius to go so he can think the whole thing over. He isn’t going to get a wink of sleep at this rate. Just as Gaius gets to the door he stops him. “What happens if I don’t do it?”

 

Gaius stops, hand on the door handle. Very solemnly he answers, “Legend says, if the ritual is not performed the very land itself will reject the king’s rule. In short, sire, Camelot cannot live without the ritual so long as you are on the throne.”

 

The door closes quietly behind him, leaving Arthur to mull over those words for the rest of the night.

 

The coronation the next day goes smoothly, as does the feast, though Arthur finds he can not enjoy it as much as he had hoped. He does not drink to excess and gives orders that his five closest knights don’t as well. Once the feast ends he collects them and explains the situation. Within the hour the six of them are armed and riding out of Camelot for the sacred grove where the ritual was to take place.

 

The sweet surrendering scent of the something filled the forest with a scent that did not belong on earth. Autumn leaves from the tall trees lay scattered on the forest floor; each of them turning brittle brown; there was a sound like dried cereal being crunched underfoot, pushing their papery remains deep into the soft soil.

 

The dark shadows of the voluminous trees and the surrounding bushes had become the backbone of the forest, standing as passive protectors of a peaceful place. The autumn sun rose in a hurry as if trying to make up for setting too early the evening before, blooming into the pale sky with a warm mellow glow, sending what was left of the moon packing until its next shift guarding the night. However, the trees grew thicker the as the knights and king took to their feet, no longer able to take the horses. Leaves and great branches blocked out the sun, an eerie sort of blue glow illuminated the forest. They follow the lanterns filled with fireflies and little chimes that the druids had hung up for them to follow.

 

The grove itself is filled with a wondrous magic but the druids are somber, all sitting around campfires to watch them cautiously approach. Leather tents, a few bubbling cauldrons filled with stew. This is how they lived in the forest, never accumulating materialistic gains for whimsical reasons.

 

An old man stands at the end of the path, wrinkled hands clasped together. He looks like someone of authority, could this be the king of the druids? He didn't look like a king.

 

Arthur signals his men to dismount. In the quiet of the forest the scraping and clanging of their armor, even just from dismounting their horses, sounds impossibly loud to his ears. Oddly he feels as if he’s already broken some rule or crossed a line in breaking the serene near silence that fills the grove.

 

He approaches the old Druid. His wizened face and bright eyes speak volumes, silently telling Arthur this is a man with decades of knowledge and wisdom and power at his command. His dignified bearing and composure say that he is not someone to be trifled with. Arthur can respect that, he too is not someone to be trifled with. Or at least, he hopes that is the sort of sense he gives off.

 

Soon he is standing less than a foot in front of the old man, his knights a few paces behind and ready at a moment’s notice to spring to their king’s aid if so required. Arthur feels more confident knowing they are there with him and clears his throat to speak. “Great Druid King.” He begins, his voice ringing in his ears. It doesn’t escape his notice that he is the only person in the entire grove to have spoken a word since their arrival and that everyone is looking at him. “I am Pr- King Arthur Pendragon of Camelot. I have come to perform the ancient ritual of kingship, as tradition demands.” He hoped to sound formal and impressive but even to his own ears he sounds stiff and nervous.

 

Laughter erupts from all around them, there are no children in this camp, they can see it now. They must have sent them away along with many of the old and feeble, those who could not fight if things got rough. The old man's lips pull into a mischievous grin as he gives a rasping laugh, slapping at his knee. "I'm not the Druid King." He wipes a tear from his eye, sniffling as if he's going to burst into tearful laughter.

 

"I am." The voice is significantly younger and so is the face that accompanies it when the true King steps out from the tent behind the elder. Long wild black locks frame a pale sculpted face, soft pink lips curl upwards in amusement to offer the sight of a dimple. Blue eyes so unnaturally vivid, they look more like the sunlit sky than eyes and framed by long black lashes. "I am Emrys, The Last Dragon Lord and King of the Druids."

 

A thick black pelt covers his shoulders and robes hide his body from view but if his face is anything to go by, he isn't a fighter. "Welcome, King Arthur Pendragon of Camelot, to my sacred grove."

 

Arthur’s throat runs dry at the sight of the young king. The man is a bit shorter than him and perhaps a few years younger, hardly what Arthur had imagined when he was sent on this quest. He’s also beautiful. Stunningly beautiful. As prince Arthur has been introduced to his fair share of beautiful women, along with growing up alongside Morgana and Guinevere, two objectively beautiful women. The druid king is something else though. His beauty is more ethereal with a wild edge to it. Like the beauty of a waterfall or cliffs above the sea.

 

Arthur’s heart hammers in his chest as he nods in greeting to the king, embarrassment making his cheeks flush. How stupid could he have been to mistake anyone but this inhuman creature as king of the Druids?

 

“Lord Emrys. I was informed of an ancient rite I am to perform to take my place as king of Camelot and have the land itself accept me as it’s sovereign. I have come to you to perform this rite. I brought with me only my most trusted knights, I was told this was permissible.” He says, using his best diplomatic voice, the sort reserved for grand speeches to potentially hostile kings.

 

Emrys leans to the side to eye the king's trusted knights, a brow perking in curiosity. They were all very handsome as was the king himself, he seems to chuckle at that thought. The King himself looked like a child made of pure sunlight, so breathtakingly handsome that he has to avert his gaze to keep from staring too long.

 

"It is permissible." He replies with a chuckle, smile hidden behind a hand. However, those eyes wrinkle with hidden mirth. "Do you trust them with not only your life but your pride?"

 

“I trust my knights with everything. My life, my pride, and my kingdom.” Arthur answers without hesitation. He puffs his chest out a little bit in indignation that anyone would question his loyalty to his knights or their loyalty to him. The druid king can’t really be blamed, of course, he’s sure not much news from court reaches them in their exile.

 

“What, precisely does the ritual entail?” he asks. He had expected some possible danger to his life, perhaps a trial by combat. But no one had mentioned anything to do with his pride. Does he have to humble himself before the Druid? Accept some humiliation to prove he is not too proud to be king?

 

"Faeneus, if you will." Emrys turns to the old man standing beside him, hands clasping behind his back. "Since you decided to wait until this morning to tell me of this ritual. Perhaps you would like to enlighten us both."

 

Faeneus cackles softly, rubbing his hands together. "Of course, your highness." He waddles off, only to return minutes later with a large book in his gnarled hands. "This ritual is as ancient as time itself, a merging of metal..." He gestures to Arthur and his knights. "And magic." Faeneus gestures to the druid king who lifts his chin proudly. "To bind the two, a congress must be held." There's some whispering among the druids until Emrys holds up his hand to quiet them.

 

"It is not unknown to us for a ritual to be performed this way." Emrys replies, "However, I am not so sure our good friend will agree to those terms. Is there any other way to perform the ritual?"

 

“What do you mean by a congress?” Arthur asks, shooting a nervous look around at the gathered druids and thinking of the knights behind him. Surely it can’t mean what he’s imagining. The druid would be insane to suggest that either king engages in such behavior.

 

Though it seems Emrys is perhaps not unused to such acts.

 

“To ensure life and fertility throughout the land, magic and metal must join in the act which gives life to all. And spill life-giving seed upon the sacred ground.” The old druid explains, watching Arthur with an amused glint in his eye. He then looks over at Emrys and shakes his head. “A sacrifice could be made instead. Two life’s worth of blood spilled, one of magic and one of metal. But that has not been done in centuries.”

 

"So, it is sex or death," Emrys replies, folding his arms across his chest. His gaze lifts to Arthur's face and lips purse, gaze flitting towards the knights for a moment. "Well, I'm not sure about any of you but I would prefer sex myself."

 

He pulls his hair over one shoulder and eyes the blond, a look of curiosity as that gaze travels over the other king's body. "I am more than happy to provide my body for the ritual." Long fingers brush through his dark locks, tongue grazing his lower lip.

 

Arthur is also more than happy to use the other man’s body for the ritual, it's his own body he’s worried about. The thought of having sex with someone, anyone, in front of his knights is disturbing enough but having sex with a man who is also possibly one of the most powerful sorcerers in the land is unthinkable.

 

Or it should be. Looking at King Emrys Arthur finds it is not nearly as unthinkable as he would like it to be. The man is radiant, and he stirs something in Arthur that he’s never felt before. He’s had the occasional stirring when he was younger watching the knights he trained with after a practice bathing together or swimming during a break from a long hunt but never has he been so drawn to someone. Never before has his heart raced in his chest like this and the thought of having his hands on another man made him burn with desire.

 

He can’t say no, even if he wanted to. He would never sacrifice a life to save his own pride. “I’ll do it.” He says firmly. “For the sake of Camelot and my people.”

 

"For the sake of Camelot," Emrys replies incredulously, it's said with mirth which is clear on his smiling features. "Shall we?" His hands raise and he tugs open the robe, letting it fall to the ground around his feet. He's completely nude underneath the warm fur, digits brush his curling dark hair over his shoulders.

 

Every part of him is as pale as his face, slender but so very male. Blue tattoos swirl around his body, curling and slicing across his skin in intricate patterns that if one looked too long at, they'd think they were moving. A long-fingered hand is offered to Arthur, the druid seems very comfortable in his own nudity.

 

"Come. I'm sure you would prefer privacy."

 

Arthur’s face goes bright red at the sudden revelation of the druid king’s body. His lithe form and perfectly pale skin, broken up by swirls and lines that must be rich in meaning and symbolism, but Arthur couldn’t care less what it is. All he knows is he wants to take the time to memorize everyone, trace the lines with his tongue until he finds where they all meet.

 

He can only imagine what his knights are thinking right now. Gwaine will be positively salivating over the beautiful young man while Leon and Lancelot keep their eyes respectfully averted. Percival will try to look away but can’t quite keep from looking back and Elyan will be looking but as inconspicuously as possible. Not that any of that matters now, Arthur isn’t thinking about them.

 

He licks his lips without thinking and nods, taking the Emrys’ hand to allow himself to be led away.

 

"The knights are to be given a warm welcome," Emrys calls out to his druids as digits lace with the blond's, he gestures grandly. "Make sure they are given whatever they want." The druids move to offer fruits, meats, alcohol and some even begin to flirt.

 

The druid king pulls Arthur away from the group and quiet cave, painted with murals in the same blue. A fire illuminates the cave, warming the very stone beneath their feet as Emrys turns to face him, light making blue eyes glitter.

 

"May I be permitted to help you undress?" His hands press palm flat against the breastplate, dragging over the metal with interest.

 

“Yes.” Arthur answers. His voice is already a little huskier and he can’t bring himself to tear his eyes away from the beautiful man. He’s closer now, less than an arm's length away and if Arthur wanted he could wrap him up in his arms, pull his naked body against his own armored flesh and kiss him breathless. The idea is enticing but he makes no move to act on it for fear of hurting the delicate man. He’s so slender and light he looks as if he might be as delicate as a little bird and would be crushed if Arthur were to handle him too roughly.

 

Surprisingly, those deft fingers make quick work of his armor and lays them nicely to the side. Emrys takes off every layer as if he's unwrapping a precious gift, peeling away cloth and leather tantalizingly slowly. Arthur is left in his breeches, the last shred of decency but the brunet seems distracted. He gazes pointedly at his chest, hands squeezing against Arthur's biceps with interest.

 

"You could pick me up." It isn't a question but it is quite breathless, his gaze flicks up to gaze at him through long lashes.

 

“Are you asking me to?” Arthur asks. Emrys’ hands are warm and gently, soft except for the calluses that speak to life doing manual labor. He supposes among druids being king doesn’t come with servants and vassals like being king of Camelot. Everyone pulled their weight carrying firewood or cooking or moving the camp.

 

His touch raises goosebumps all long Arthur’s arms and his soft breeches do little to hide that he’s already at half mast just from the simple act of being undressed and touched like this. Tentatively he reaches out too, brushing his fingers over a swirling blue line on Emrys’ hip.

 

There's no smear, either the paint lasts for awhile or it's a tattoo. He trembles at just the small touch of Arthur's fingers against his hip and he steps closer, hands squeezing the blonde's arms. "Yes." Emrys isn't shy about his needs or his wants, his arms snake around the older man's shoulders.

 

Lips find Arthur's suddenly, soft plump petals that crush deliciously against his own. "I'm supposed to paint the ritualistic runes on you." He whispers against the blond's lips, "But I'm finding it hard to step away. I wonder if we can get on without them."

 

The words take a minute to sink in because Arthur is too focused on the kiss. Merlin is a perfect fit for him and no man should have lips so lush and soft like that. He wraps his arms around Merlin’s waist, loving how slight he is and how he can so easily wrap both arms around him. He’s about to lean in to kiss him again when the words finally make sense.

 

“Runes?” He asks, tone skeptical. “What sort of runes? What will they do to me?”

 

"Do to you?" Merlin leans back, searching the blond's face for a moment before huffing. Eyes roll in their sockets as if he's asked a ridiculous question, digits bury in blond locks. "Nothing, they're purely symbolic." His lips tease along Arthur's jawline and down his neck, teeth dragging over his shoulder.

 

"They symbolize who you are and what you represent in our union." His hands can't stop touching him. "You worry too much about what could be and less on what is."

 

“You never know with magic. For all I know this is all a trap to kill me or turn me into a toad or worse.” Arthur says. The words come naturally, a lifetime of lessons on the evils of magic making them second nature but he hardly seems worried or inclined to push Emrys away. He unwinds his arms from around his waist and instead settles his hands on his slim hips, pads of his fingers sinking into his soft flesh while those perfect lips trail across his neck and jaw.

 

“Are the runes necessary for the ritual?”

 

"A toad would hardly be useful." His tongue drags along Arthur's throat but he pauses at the question and leans back. "No, but you would look very good in them." Fingers trace swirling patterns over the blond's chest and arms. "Swirling dark runes over your skin, you could go home looking like a fearsome druid warrior."

 

Merlin suddenly smacks him gently on the chest, lips pursing. "Pick me up and carry me to the furs." After a moment, he adds, "Please."

 

Arthur obliges. His hands slip from Emrys’ hips to cup his ass and he easily hoists him up. Emrys seems to know exactly what to do and wraps his legs around Arthur’s waist. The Pendragon can feel the other man’s arousal pressed against his stomach, can feel the heat of it like a brand and his own sex hardens further in anticipation of what’s to come.

 

He tilts his head up to meet Emrys’, the position now setting him just a higher than Arthur, and captures his lips in a passionate kiss as he walks them over to the prepared furs.

 

Emrys had heard all about Arthur Pendragon, not all of it had been good but he'd known from the start their entwined destinies. He's not certain the blond knows but he will... Oh, he will. The druid devours Arthur's lips like a starving man, passionate and hungry for all he had to offer. Teeth sink into his lower lip, tugging almost playfully as thighs squeeze tight around his hips.

 

The furs are soft underneath them, plush and warm. Emrys looks so pale against them as he brushes a hand down the blond's chest, dipping fingers into his breeches. "Have you ever laid with another man, Arthur?"

 

“No,” Arthur answers truthfully. He and the other knights have fumbled around together. A few quick and dirty rub and tugs in the dark on long cold winter nights. He’d never even kissed them. He can’t seem to stop kissing Emrys though and he lowers himself for another, caging in the smaller king with his arms and body while he slips his tongue into his mouth to taste him. He tastes sweet and a little earthy and wonderful.

 

"Surprising," Emrys whispers against his lips. "I can hardly imagine anyone not wanting you." His hand slides down to grip Arthur through his breeches, expert fingers curving and caressing it just the right way to bring him to fullness. Despite his thin lithe body, the brunet easily switches their positions and straddles Arthur's hips.

 

Nails drag over his chest, the druid blowing out a breath to calm himself. A vial of oil was plucked from the floor and he pops it open, it smells vaguely of mint. "I was prepared before you arrived." Emrys unties the blond's breeches and fishes him out, stroking the slick oil over his cock. "So, you won't have to tonight."

_Tonight_. It sounds like a promise of more nights to come. Arthur groans and presses his hips up into Emrys’ warm, slick hand. The image of Emrys, working those same slick fingers into himself to prepare for Arthur comes to him unbidden and his cock twitches at the thought.

 

“You do this often?” Arthur asks through gritted teeth. He lifts his hands to settle on Emrys’ ass again, kneading the tender flesh and squeezing just hard enough to leave marks. He wants to make sure he remembers this tomorrow, one way or another. “You seem very knowledgeable about these sorts of acts.”

 

"You are not my first man, no," Emrys responds, laughter in his voice. "We druids view sex a bit differently than others." Warm fingers drag over his length and then over the tip of his cock, making sure every inch of him is covered. "It's sacred by not coveted. It's another way for us to worship our Gods."

 

He leans forward, long curling locks brushing against Arthur's chest and chin. "And well, I have always had a preference for muscles and deep voices." Emrys chortles pleasantly. "Shall I ride you or would you prefer to take me from behind?" The question is asked in case Arthur is nervous about being with a man, Emrys is indistinguishable from a woman from the back.

 

Arthur shivers as a spike of arousal courses through him. Both are equally pleasing. If he took him he would have complete control. He could fuck into him hard and fast, taking as he wanted and giving Emrys all he can take. He could touch him all over while he fucked him, pinch his nipples and stroke his cock until he’s a shuddering mess begging for more. But then, Emrys bouncing on his cock, using him for his own pleasure and driving himself to orgasm, being able to see his face as he comes apart and stroke him to completion across his own chest is equally gratifying.

 

“I want you on top. I want to see you.” Arthur answers in a voice so low and gruff it's nearly a growl. He punctuates the decision with another squeeze of his soft ass. Emrys is so beautiful like this, haloed by the firelight, he can’t bring himself to give up the chance to see him in all his glory.

 

That seems to surprise the druid, enough that he throws back his head and laughs joyfully. He would have never guessed Arthur would choose to let him lead, he seemed like such an impatient man. Perhaps Emrys had judged him too quickly. "As you wish, your highness." The brunet teases and lifts up his hips, it takes him a moment to position himself correct. A long, low moan rolls from his lips as he slowly eases himself down on Arthur's cock, it's not his first time but there's something about the blond. It's a connection he'd never expected, thick electricity in the air that made it hard to breathe.

 

When his hips press flush against Arthur's, he takes a moment to just gasp for breath. His walls flex and tighten around the blond involuntarily, Emrys understands now what the old druid meant by they were connected and that it would all make sense once they were together.

 

Arthur’s legs are shaking from the effort it takes not to thrust up into the druid and bury himself to the hilt as soon as he starts sinking down onto his cock. Emrys’ body is hot and tight and the instant he’s fully seated it's like something in Arthur snaps into place. It feels right in a way he can’t explain but he’s never felt so complete as he does now with Emrys on top of him.

 

He lets go of the other man’s ass while he sinks down and instead finds his thighs, rubbing his hands over the smooth skin and feeling the muscles quiver from exertion. He watches his face too and is almost lost in the beauty he finds there. Emrys’ pale skin now flushed with desire and his expression softening his features in the wake of his pleasure. “You’re beautiful.” He whispers up at him.

 

It's something he's heard many times in the past but never has his reaction felt so powerful, warmth pools between his legs. A hazy gaze finds Arthur's and he searches that handsome face, it's like he's found a missing piece of himself. Was this the magic working over them both or something entirely different? It's clear that the druid king himself has no idea. Speechless, Emrys leans down to capture his lips instead of replying.

 

Hips lift, hot slick walls drag before he drops himself back down. "Oh." A whimper, pleasure shoots through him so violently that his head swims. His rhythm is tentative and slowly, gaining speed by the second as his instinct takes over. Warm breath washes over Arthur's lips as the brunet moans wantonly, loudly.

 

Arthur curses and holds onto Emrys’ hips, rocking up into him as he picks up speed and kissing back with all the intensity he usually saves for the battlefield. He doesn’t just kiss Emrys, he captures his lips and tongue intent on conquering the other man and leaving him breathless and ruined for anyone else who might come after him.

 

Every drag of Emrys’ tight, slick inner walls drives him mad. He’s never felt anything as good as this and doubts he ever will again. He wants to take all that he is given and more. He begins to thrust, short stuttering little thrusts that meet Emrys’ own fast pace.

 

Emrys needs better leverage and as much as he doesn't want to, he sits up. He can't kiss Arthur any longer but he can move more freely. His thighs tense as he lifts and drops hard, hands braced against the blond's chest. Nothing has ever felt this _good_ before, there's nothing that could ever come close again. He's certain of that.

 

His head drops back as he sobs out in pleasure, the muscles in his stomach tensing as he comes ever closer to the edge. "Oh, Arthur! Arthur, please. Take over, my legs...." He's losing the strength to continue as much as he wants to stay on top.

 

“ _Yes,_ ” Arthur growls because the restraint has been killing him. He wraps an arm around Emrys to hold him while he rolls them over. He lays him down gently on his back, never breaking the contact between them. As soon as Emrys is laid on the furs Arthur begins to thrust. Nothing holds him back now and he pounds fast and hard into the warm willing body below him.

 

He leans forward on one arm to get a better angle for his thrusts and with his free hand reaches down between them to grasp Emrys’ drooling cock. He spreads the leaking fluid down the shaft and begins to pump as close to in time with his thrusts as he can manage. All the while his eyes stay locked on the druid’s beautiful face. He’s so close, he can see it in the way he gasps and moans with every thrust. Heat pools in Arthur as well, deep in his gut telling him he’s close, so close, but he holds it back so he can watch Emrys come undone.

_Powerful._ Each thrust unravels another knot that Emrys wasn't aware he even had, his fingers dig into the flesh at the blond's shoulders, holding on as if he's afraid he'll ascend. The words that fall from his lips have no meaning anymore, they're just breathless praises that aren't fully in English. There is no doubt that the entire encampment can hear him as the druid begs him for more, writhing underneath him like a wild cat in heat.

 

Red has bled from cheeks to chest even the tips of his ears, lips swollen and plump from their passionate kisses. Lashes clumped together from the tears of pure ecstasy, he let's a choked moan when Arthur's hand grips his leaking cock. It doesn't take him long between the thrust of Arthur's length and stroke of his hand, Emrys throws back his head to cry out his release. His body tenses underneath the blond, walls closing so tight that they nearly push the older man out. "Arthur!"

 

Emrys’ face is everything Arthur had hoped it would be. He’s open and vulnerable and perfectly stunning in the throes of pleasure with Arthur’s name on his lips. The king pumps him through his orgasm, his release covering his hand and spattering over both their stomachs in hot thick spurts.

 

His thrusts are diminished to shallow, stuttering jolts by the tightness of Emrys’ body clenching around him, becoming almost painful in the best way. It doesn’t take long until he’s tumbling over the edge after him, cock twitching and pumping his release deep inside the druid king whose body continues to shiver and spasm around him. He manages a few more thrusts through his orgasm and the aftershocks before gently pulling out to collapse onto the furs beside him.

 

“That was….” Arthur starts, panting, but finds himself at a loss for the right word to describe what happened between them.

 

Emrys immediately rolls over, throwing a leg over the blonde's hips. He nuzzles against his shoulder with a contented sigh. "Perfect." The druid finishes the sentence, placing a brave kiss against his chest.

 

"Was this what you expected when you came here?" He asks, pushing up on his elbow to gaze down at Arthur.

 

“No. Not at all.” Arthur lifts an arm and wraps it around the sorcerer’s shoulders, holding him. It might be wrong but after everything, they just did he doesn’t care. He’s a snuggler anyway. “I thought maybe, some kind of trial? A test of some kind. To test my honor or my strength to prove I’m fit to rule. I never imagined anything like…” Like you, he wants to say. “This.” He says instead.

 

Emrys shivers as the cold sets in, he tugs a fur up around the both of them. He doesn't seem to mind at all that they're huddled together under the blankets. However, he will need to bathe soon. "I could always arrange a trial by combat if you would like to show off a little. I'd love to see how good you are with your other sword."

 

Arthur rolls his eyes. “I thought sorcerers were supposed to be wise. I hope this isn’t your idea of clever.” He can’t hide the little smirk tugging at his lips though. He pulls Emrys a little closer until the druid is half lying on his chest. “Does it always feel like that?” He asks quietly.

 

"I am human, you know." The druid flicks Arthur on the shoulder, "I have my quirks much like everyone else." He pulls his hair over his shoulder and sucks in a breath. "No, it's not always like that. I've never... felt anything like that." Emyrs glances sheepishly at the blond, a look he hasn't shared until now. "Nothing has ever felt like that."

 

Silence falls between them at that. Arthur had hoped for a different answer. Any other answer. Yes, it’s always like that. No, it’s usually much better. Or even that Emrys hadn’t felt what he had. Instead, he’s left knowing nothing will ever feel like that ever again.

 

“We can’t see each other again. We’re enemies. My duty as King is to protect Camelot from sorcerers. From people like you.” Arthur says. He doesn’t look at Emrys as he speaks and his tone is heavy with regret and sadness.

 

Emrys stiffens beside the blond, it hurts to hear something so cruel after what has transpired between them. Cuddling doesn't feel right anymore and so, he pulls away. The druid gets to his feet and moves to the entrance, he pauses but only to speak for a moment. "You should get dressed. I'm sure our kingdom waits for you with bated breath."

 

He disappears from the tent, scooping up his fur robe and shrugging it over his shoulders. Faeneus stops him to ask how it was and if the ritual was complete. Emrys knows the knights can hear him when he says "Oh, it was wonderful but his bedside manners need work."

 

Arthur sighs and begins redressing. He hadn’t meant for it to come out that way but there’s no fixing it now. He dresses quickly and methodically and leaves the tent after Emrys to find his knights waiting, all looking a bit sheepish. He doesn’t say anything, only motions for them to go ready the horses. Thank the gods they’re smart enough to understand and leave him alone.

 

It isn’t hard to find Emrys. His pale skin practically glows in the dim firelight of the camp. He approaches him and catches his arm so he can’t run away. “I didn’t mean to offend you.” He says, awkward now that so many people are watching them. “If things were different. Perhaps we could be friends.” _And I could see you again_ goes unsaid but hangs heavy in the air.

 

"Offend me?" Emrys laughs, yanking himself free from the blond's grip. "Offend?" The druid king seems absolutely frustrated by the king, he throws his hands in the air. "We have mind-blowing sex and you... decide right after that it's a great idea to remind me that we're technically enemies."

 

A finger jams into Arthur's chest, a motion that he automatically regrets because he's armored. "And _who's_ fault is it that we're enemies in the first place."

 

“That wasn’t what I meant!” Arthur snaps, regret turning to anger. He grabs the man’s wrist and pushes his hand away. He has nothing to say to the accusation and instead turns his back on Emrys. “The ritual is complete now isn’t it? If that’s all, I have a kingdom to rule.”

 

"Oh, you are infuriating!" Merlin's wild curls bounce as he gestures, arms spread wide to gesture at the blond. "And what is it that you meant, King Pendragon?"

 

In his anger, Arthur forgets that there are some things he can't or shouldn't say. He turns back around and snarls, "That I wish it wasn't that way and maybe we could see each other again! But you're too dense to understand that!"

 

The druid steps back, taken off guard by his words and laughs. "You're the king, Arthur." Emrys gives him an incredulous look. "Who exactly would stop you?"

 

"You don't understand." Arthur shakes his head. He looks over his shoulder and though he can't see them he knows his knights are waiting just at the edge of the grove. "I have to go. My men are waiting for me. Goodbye, King Emrys."

 

Emrys catches up to him before he gets on his horse, uncaring if the knights see him. He grips Arthur by his shoulders and pulls him in for a passionate, long kiss that leaves them both breathless. "I'll find a way for us to meet again." He whispers so that only the blond can hear him. "Goodbye, King Arthur."

 

Arthur swallows hard and nods. There's nothing left to say between them so he turns and leaves, finding his knights waiting exactly as expected. The six of them ride back to Camelot in silence, the men knowing better than to say anything of what happened. The sun is just beginning to peak over the trees when Arthur makes it back to his chambers to find his breakfast already on the table. He drops down into his chair and grabs an apple and despite everything, finds himself smiling. He has no doubt that druid will make good on his word and he's looking forward to the day they meet again.


End file.
